In The Heat Of The Night
by Pirate In Desguise
Summary: My personal intake on such an unexploited character: Santiago, his past, his present, his insight concerning the Volturi and his unforeseen opinion regarding one special newborn that Aro is not so keen on eliminating. Please give it a chance because I am aware how Santiago is not a character people seek to read about. A One-Shot :)


**Hello :)**

**so this was my audition for one of the local roleplays for the role of Santiago. I enlarged and polished it. and Voila! that is the result :)**

**hope you enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is like the genie. through her wide imagination, she was able to create a new world full of possibilities and new prospects. A promising land where everything is possible. We are just having fun analysing those possibilities, from every angle and every perspective :)**

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SECRECY.

It is the only word that has the power to define the whole concept of the Volturi. No matter your rank, your gift or your whereabouts, you are submitted to this indestructible force of "nature". It is not only a matter of safety since all vampires can protect themselves just fine. It is a matter of convenience: it is easier to roam in the dark knowing the humans are not aware of what lurks in their streets while they are sleeping.

The rules are clearer than unstained see-through glass. The punishment has been forged for centuries now: exposure implies death. No trials, no discussions. No force can change your fate if case proven guilty. Your doom is escorted by the powerful mean of a simple touch, a touch that has the ability to unlock all the secrets of your past, every bit of it and to decide your whole future based on your history.

If proven guilty, the procedure is classical and very standardized; they will abuse their powers to make you admit to your "sins", they will lecture you on how venomous what you did is for the vampire society, they will mentally torture you, they will eliminate you in a heartbeat –consider yourself lucky is they used Alec instead of Jane – and then, they will laugh about it, considering the mission a complete success.

OBEDIENCE.

A word so familiar yet not as repulsive as others may think: Being in a position of powers has the tendency to attract rebellious and treacherous thoughts seeded by long lost enemies. The Volturi is constantly the target of many rumors and anecdotes, while Prejudices and false publicity wrap the mysterious castle we live in and hunts the air we 'breathe' when exploring new territory.

Everyone fears the presence of the Volturi. According to the common beliefs, they seem to send death notes personified by two angelical twins whose features would have radiated serenity and peacefulness if being condemned to death at the stake was not enough to darken their hearts.

In fact, each one of the Volturi guards has a gloomy story buried inside of him, a centuries-old dusty human tale with no happy ending: Abusive childhood, political assault, poverty, economical crisis that left them homeless and dying alone on the streets…

Aro was our saving grace. His intensions were not completely pure, that all the guards knew, but he cared enough to give us a chance to escape our torturous human backgrounds. Even though human memories are all blurry, you still remember it was a dark gloomy chapter of your life that you do not wish to re-read or relive. It explains why the vampire life is heaven to most of us. Aro made the whole vampire thing easier to handle. Every guard had lived through the injustices of the human world. Thus compared to the humans, the Volturi system seems kind of fair since the rules are crystal clear. Death is the only punishment achievable for a vampire: it is impossible to lock a vampire up or torture him (Jane would have instantly disagreed but not for so long as she gets easily bored)

This is the story of how Aro saved me...

_**Mexico, 1685.**_

The second it has taken me to look up at the sun to identify the hour was enough an alibi for M. Pedro to smack me cold-bloodedly on my shoulder with his belt. My arm almost gave away underneath the weighty load I have been carrying for the last 2 hours. If I haven't regained my balance at the last minute, I would have dropped the heavy set of stones I am carrying, crushing my vertebral axis and my left arm in the process. If there is anything someone like me would never be able to afford is paralysis. I will be cataloged as "worthless" and lose my job. I think of my family, the reason I got this atrocious excuse of a job for. Who will feed Mama's seven other ninos in case I was injured? I might as well be dead.

"MOVE!" The supervisor shouts, "No distractions allowed"

Each worker must carry a load settled at half his weight, unfortunately for me; I was the burliest worker there. Work conditions are horrendously intolerable. Already five hours in the blistering heat, my hands aching from the heavy load I was carrying and the lack of sleep were the major triggers of my next foolish actions.

I was so outraged I threw the set of stones on the floor; they landed in a loud thud on the floor, attracting some unwanted attentions from the other workers. The supervisor was aiming his belt to strike me with it a second time. I had no idea what has possessed me at this time, my wrath swiftly molding into something so unfamiliar within me, so close to insanity. That is when I decided in a moment of pure lunacy to stand up to my offender. Even though I managed to avoid the belt striking any vital organs, it still got my thigh, I collapsed to the ground powerless but not about to give up. It is stated against the rules to avoid such a 'necessary disciplinary act' as-well-known as a hit.

The belt came at me once again, but this time I was prepared for it, for the pain, the agony to seep through my veins melting my bones, creating a new acidic fluid that is intoxicating slowly my somatic cells, burning me alive. He managed to hit me a couple of time, extracting an agonizing scream from me. The other workforces stopped their laborious tasks to watch the bulky man getting torturously and slowly killed by the sadistic Spanish Settlers. As I managed to get up from the ground, the settler gave me a cynical smug grin before going for the final strike.

Right before the belt hit my shoulders, aiming to paralyze me, I managed to get a grip on it. The supervisor not having a fast reflex has not caught on what is going on. He had a second of disadvantage that I intentionally took great benefit of. I forcefully snatched the belt from his hands. Around me, I heard cheers and enthusiastic applause. It was understandable, this glimmer of hope everyone holds on to, this faith, that one day, we will be able to reclaim our land, to be free from those monstrous creatures whose only job was to abuse the Hispanic population and exploit Mexico's natural resources. I was so caught in my own myth that I have not seen other settlers, having witnessed the scene, coming to the rescue of their co-worker.

The next thing I remember is the pain.

Excruciating…

Slow…

Incurable…

It almost rivaled Jane's inflicted torture, now that I think of it.

I was on the floor, I was in no doubt the left side of my body was completely paralyzed. I can't seem able to shift any muscle away from the weapons getting back at me every time they get the chance. And even if I was physically able to, I was somehow stuck between two worlds, one of a peaceful deep eternal slumber that suggests afterlife, and one that promised to be the prelude to an eternal damnation: paralysis.

The settlers smiled at me, hostility radiating from them. The intensity of their harmful intentions toward me defies the heat radiating from the sandy underneath me. I am sure the high temperature of the ground left blotches of burned skin all over my exposed torso.

"NEVER SOMEONE TOLD YOU OBIDIENCE WAS THE KEY FOR SURVIVAL? REBELLION IS FOR SUICIDAL FOOLS LIKE YOU!" he shouted in my ear before he spat on me.

He didn't know how right he was.

He was aiming for the final strike, the one that would send me knocked down. I close my eyes, embracing my fate. Nothing happens. In a blink of an eye, red was everywhere. For a second, I thought myself delusional, or the sunlight in my eye is the reason I'm seeing burgundy everywhere. But then bodies and organs were starting to fall around me. Screams of agony could be heard in the background, mantras of suppliant prayers and pleadings decreasing in intensity composing a dark decrescendo in a sinister Death-centered symphony. As atrocious as the scene was, I could not bring myself to look away. It was a pleasant view, seeing my torturers having a taste of their own medicine. Until one heavy amputated body part fell right on my back making me scream in agony. My shouts were rivaling those of the settlers all around me.

But then, I saw a man, a graceful ghost that seems to be floating in the air rather than walking on the sandy ground, to be more accurate. From the perspective I was witnessing the homicide from, I could not even distinguish his features. As the screeches faded into the faint soft sound of the occasional summer breeze, he seemed to take notice of me for the first time.

He approached me in a gracious predatory manner, one that screams 'Danger'. Even though crimson is everywhere within my field of vision, not even a bloodstain managed to appear on his light cloak. He stopped merely a foot away from me. That is when I felt a small tug on my hand that made me cringe in fright. I think I would have been hyperventilating if I was even able to make my lungs work in the first place. He leaneed over, eyes of a blood-stained red color focused on me, a wicked smile tugging at his lips before whispering in my ear.

"Goodbye Santiago, have a deep slumber"

That is when everything went black. Darkness started to drown me, take me under its wings protecting me from the cruelty and the brutality of this world. Until that feeling of explosive being planted underneath my skin re-emerges, making me experience a kind of pain so brutal and indescribable. So I assumed I was dead because this is obviously what hell must feel like. I want it all to stop. Badly. Burgundy and Black Blotches start to appear in front of my burning eyes, tormenting me, making the pain not only physical but also psychological. A force stronger than anything is pulling me under.

I never did resurface.

_**Back to the present**_

All the guards not on duty were summoned to the main room. We were having an eventful month. A vampire serial killer has been lurking around in the whole damn world, killing and abducting young teens. There are no doubts concerning his intentions: Rebellion. We have taken part in that scenario countless times, but it never took that long a time to find the culprit. Aro frustrated with this dramatic turn of events has sent his best guards searching for him. While Jane, Demitri and Chelsea were ordered to investigate in northern America, Alec, Felix and Afton were sent to inspect Siberia where the two last crimes were committed.

Luckily, a new born has been spotted by Demitri and tracked down in the Antilles before being escorted to Italy. The main reason is to see if Aro could track something, or find a lead in her mind.

The outlaw vampire was pushed in the enormous throne room as I stood at a 90 degrees arc from the door in the elliptical room, a strategic position that allows me to intercept her in case she thoughtlessly attempted to escape. The newborn is a twenty-something girl, a Caucasian, an angelical figure, a lean silhouette. Even for a vampire, she is considered pale, her hair is falling down her back in soft auburn curls, and her eyes are a focused shade of burgundy. No need to tie her down. She, irrational as a newborn could be, seemed to know her critical position as she stood as still as she could directly in front of Aro's throne.

Aro waited for a few minutes expecting the newborn to lash out, speak up or do _something _equally scandalous, but nothing. Nada. He seemed disappointed when he realized there is no use in waiting for a foolish move anymore. But Aro being always so fond of theatricality and abused power tried to stall the newborn's unquestionable death.

"What is your name, sweet child?" Aro began in his conversational tone. 'I'm a friend' he might be implying. Aro's classical style.

The girl looked around, with large perceptive eyes, observing the whole set of guards standing at masters' sides. The Volturi spend centuries, if not millenniums studying the behaviorism of unwanted species such as the Children of the Moon, Immortal children and Newborns. Her eyes are not dilating every few seconds like a normal newborn's unfocused eyes would. Thus, it is safe to assume she is more established than a normal newborn, she would have almost passed for a hundred-year-old vampire if we didn't know any better, _if Aro didn't know any better._

"Luciana" She answers simply, but in a tone that suggests fearlessness and a fine portion of bravery.

"Tell me, sweet Luciana, what does human blood taste like?" Aro asked in an inquisitive but casual tone. A tone that is politely amused yet authorative.

"Heaven" the newborn replied curtly yet politely.

"Heaven?" He asks, looking around in fake uncertainty, as if the whole concept of human blood is foreign to him.

She looks at him skeptically before nodding firmly accentuating her brave, unwavering demeanor. Her eyes flickered for a moment to Cauis who was devilishly smirking at her now while Marcus watched the whole scene unfolding in front of his eyes in utter disinterest. Aro smiles at her, going for the final strike.

"And tell me child, is human blood worth risking public display thus a possible exposure of our kind, just so you could treat yourself to such a blissful privilege?"

The girl remained silent. She closed her eyes in defeat, taking a deep unnecessary breath, acknowledging her fate, and trying to embrace it. Aro smiled broadly in victory. He cannot help but feel glorious each and every time he was proven right, which happens to be persistently the case.

Aro, sitting comfortably on his gold-trimmed throne, his legs crossed, stares openly at the girl. I keep on staring at her as the realization finally downed on her. She just does not belong in this world. A world of great horror stories and mysteries that are better kept unsolved. And she will be eliminated even before given a shot at survival. The more she realizes this, the more uncomfortable she gets, the wider Aro's smile becomes.

"Why are you so persistent not to answer me, child?" he asks innocently. He is trying to get her to talk before he forcefully gets what he needs and orders her execution. It has been a while since Aro had some fun tormenting an outlaw. And since it has been a while since they have been working on this specific case, according to him, playing with the girl's emotions and fate is something he unquestionably earned.

The girl's eyes are held downcast. She is frowning, drowning in deep thought. I almost pitied her. She knows what is coming her way. A newborn usually needs to be taken by surprise during an offense because of his strength, but this one, this one needs to be given the same treatment to make her death less painful. I restrain myself from following this train of thoughts since any kind of reflected emotions within the Volturi is prohibited. This thought was enough to keep me in place and remind me that stirring trouble caused by a hopeless case would be unintelligent and uncalled for. Her death would be quick but not unpredicted I decide.

Aro, with the agility and the gracefulness of a ghost, stride down to the girl. He stands in front of her, a few inches away. He is looking curiously at her, until she meet his eye. Having spent centuries in an undergrounded castle, working for Aro, you easily learn to interpret his mad hatter behaviorism. And judging from this look of pure joy and curiosity, you could tell Aro was genuinely fascinated with the girl, which is understandable. She is different from anything I have ever witnessed during my time with the Volturi. She strikes me as odd and under all the layers of joy and carelessness, Aro is internally debating the fate of this girl.

He forgets his theories and assumptions for a moment, replacing them with practice as he takes the girl's hands in his. His expression is unreadable as he refused to let go of the girl's fingers. His pupils were dilated as he concentrated on a memory, an unknown vision that just lured him in its trap. All the guards were looking at him expectantly. The view was so uncharacteristically extraordinary; it was hard not to stare. It was like eyeing a tiger being tamed by a human baby.

A split second later, he was back, back to Volterra, back to his position of power.

"Fascinating, simply fascinating!" he says in an ecstatic voice, a smile tucked on his lips. He turns on his heels, his back to the newborn, and his hands behind his back, slowly walking to his throne. For an instant, he looked like an old judicious man, weighting the pros and the cons of the situation at hand before he makes up his mind. His eyes flicker to me. The look he was throwing my way was undecipherable. He sits on his throne, his elbow on the arm of the chair, his fist holding his face, suddenly appearing bored by the whole situation.

"Never someone told you obedience was the key for survival and rebellion is for suicidal fools like yourself." Aro stated calmly, his eyes intently focused on the girl. It was not a question.

Aro sake the opportunity when he knew the child has let his guards down. The child opened her eyes curiously, searching for clues of what she missed. The red flag was already held high. At this stage, my response should be automatic. No place for thinking or distraction. It might be Chelsea's absence but my reaction was slower than usual. In a heartbeat, I was right next to the girl, extending my arms to grab her by the elbow to paralyze her and inhibit any sort of defensive action she might take.

The outcome was staggering. The girl was so swift on her feet that her movement was blurry; she proficiently managed to evade my attack at the last minute. And that is when it hit me, the girl is not only a gifted fighter, but a strategist. The next thing I perceive is an indistinct figure aiming for the door. In my madness, I tried to block her path, but one second was all it took for her to dodge my rising arms used as barriers. She turned to glimpse at me one more time before fleeing out the immense door. She slipped right out of my hand. It must be a first.

She was fast. Even for a vampire, she was fast. So why has she waited this long to flee if she knew she was at an advantage? But the answer is right in front of my bewildered eyes: I was positioned halfway between her and the door. Knowing initially I will be the one assigned to insure her doom, she waited for me to get close to her, leaving the door unguarded, to sprint out, getting a good head start compared to whoever will be ordered to track her down. She is not only swift but she is smart, a real strategist.

"Santiago, Santiago, Santiago" Aro speaks, shaking his head amused rather than disappointed or taken aback.

He knew. He knew of the girl's capabilities and her plan and yet, he let her escape. I know better than to question master's motives, even though his intentions remain unknown and exasperating at times. I felt manipulated and humiliated.

"You ought to bring her to me, dear Santiago" Aro smiles before adding "Unharmed"

An order should be executed instantly. I curtsied in a respectful manner before leaving the room. Something fiery and sizzling was leaking through my entire being, molding into something very similar to cold wrath. How dare a worthless newborn demolish everything I consistently worked to attain, battled so hard to achieve? Dark thoughts start to fill my mind as I mechanically raced through the suburbs of Volterra following instinctively the girl's faint scent. A vision of the outlaw's scattered shrapnel on the ground as I lay fire to them trespassed into my mind, making me smile in satisfaction before getting back on track. I am going to get her, sooner or later. My pride and my dignity depend on it.

_Back in the throne room – Aro's point of view –_

Brother Caius is not a vicious man by nature. He is an old soul battered by war and psyched by the law. A few adventurous experiences altered eternally his sources of pleasures in life, molding him into the being he is nowadays. Second chances are a malediction created by human beings just to ease their guilt over a sin, he says. And now that Chelsea is not nearby, opposing my brother in headship will be quite… interesting.

"What are your intentions concerning the girl, brother? She is a newborn, brother. A rebellious creature that knows neither commitment nor self control."

Years of expertise has proven me brother is not a secure person, claiming his right of power at any cost in any situation are concrete proof of my theory.

"Peace, brother. The girl could be classified as significant to the functioning of the Volturi. Her talent is one I have not witnessed in a long time."

"You let her escape, Aro!" Caius starts to be annoyed as he states what is obvious.

"Bear with me, brother. Her escapade was a mere demonstration of her talent. This was a move in the right direction.

"Why have you not offered her the position she deserved right away then, brother?"

A smile tugged at my lips "To reasonably justify my motives, I have reasons to believe our dear Santiago has found a mate in her"

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**I really hoped you enjoyed it, because I am aware how Santiago is not a character people seek to read about. **

**And this is meant to be a one-shot, but i am willing to continue it, if readers want me too, So reviews are appreciated.**

**PS: I never got Santiago's part, I got Aro's :)**


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